He wondered in what part of this mysterious house Lala resided,
and recognizing that his departure must leave traces, he
determined to prosecute his inquiries as far as possible, since
another opportunity might not arise.
He was baffled but still hopeful. Something there was in the
smell of the place which threatened to unnerve him; or perhaps in
its silence, which remained quite unbroken save when, by acute
listening, one detected the dripping of water.
That unexplained scuffling sound, too, which he had failed to
trace or identify, lingered in his memory insistently, and for
some reason contained the elements of fear.
He crossed the room and began softly to mount the stair. It
creaked only slightly, and the door at the top proved to be ajar.
He peeped in, to find the place empty. It was a typical Chinese
apartment, containing very little furniture, the raised desk
being the most noticeable item, except for a small shrine which
faced it on the other side of the room.
He mounted the steps to the desk and inspected a number of loose
papers which lay upon it. Without exception they were written in
Chinese. A sort of large, dull white blotting-pad lay upon the
table, but its surface was smooth and glossy.
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